


you won't see me

by Kit_Kat21



Series: Beatles Tribute [15]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flashbacks, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_Kat21/pseuds/Kit_Kat21
Summary: “It’s Sansa,” Robb blurts out and Jon feels everything – including his beating heart and pumping blood – still.Just hearing her name… Why is Robb about to cry when saying his sister’s name? His heart begins beating again; pounding forcefully, trying to break right through his ribs.“What’s happened to Sansa? What’s wrong? Robb-” Jon begins firing out.“Jon,” Robb cuts him off. “Sansa’s home.”





	1. One

…

 

**One.**

“Why is this one your favorite?” Jon Snow asked as he sat on the floor of her bedroom, his back resting against the bed, as Sansa Stark sat at her desk where her sewing machine was set up. As always, there was a Beatles record spinning on the record player on the low shelf beneath her window. Today, it was _Rubber Soul_.

 

“Hmmmm?” Sansa lifted her head at the question and then turned it to look at Jon.

 

For a moment, he admittedly forgot his question.

 

Sansa’s bedroom faced west and that afternoon, as she turned in her chair, the sun shining through the windows burned around her, almost making her hair seem as if it was on fire and her skin appear nearly white as paper. It still knocked him the hell back sometimes; just how beautiful Sansa Stark was and it still often amazed him that she let him put his hands anywhere near her, let alone let him _inside_ of her.

 

Jon tilted his head towards the record player. “Why is this one your favorite?” He asked again.

 

Sansa had all of the Beatles records – even the records that were the same except one or two different songs that were released in different countries. Her collection was her pride and joy – she having spent hours, combing used bookstores and garage sales – and the music of this Fab Four was the only music she ever listened to. Still, with all of their records, this album was her absolute favorite.

 

She looked to the record player then, to see the vinyl spinning, and she then looked back to Jon with a smile.

 

“Because it’s perfect,” she replied easily and Jon found himself cracking a grin at that. “Here,” Sansa then said as she slid off from her chair and joined him on the floor.

 

They were the only ones in the Stark home that afternoon; everyone else out and about, seeing to their own things. Jon had known they would be alone when Sansa texted him – because why else would she text him to come over if they weren’t going to be alone? – and usually, they would take advantage of that because the Stark home being _completely_ empty of everyone else certainly didn’t happen that often.

 

 And though they had made out on her bed for a bit of time, they hadn’t done anything more.

 

“I don’t know how much time we have,” Sansa said quietly, laying on her back with Jon above her, her finger circling one of the buttons on the Henley he wore that day. “And I… I like when we can take our time. It’s like…” a blush began creeping across her cheeks then as her words trailed off.

 

“What?” Jon asked softly, relaxing his body a bit more on top of hers, brushing a strand of hair back from her forehead, his eyes looking into hers.

 

Sansa shook her head, but then finished. “When we can take our time, it feels like we’re really making love.”

 

Jon suddenly wondered if it was possible to never have backseat quickies with her anymore even though it was the easiest way for them to be together. He quickly went over Robb’s schedule and how much time he and Sansa could have alone in their flat. He knew the easiest solution, but he couldn’t do that. Not yet. Sansa never admitted it or agreed with him when he said it, but she _had_ to know that it was the truth.

 

Sansa Stark was Ned and Catelyn’s pride and joy. They loved all of their children unconditionally, of course, but Sansa was always special. Jon could never put his finger on exactly _why_ she was; it was just the way of things in the Stark house. Even her younger siblings did their best to always make sure Sansa was protected.

 

Jon could just imagine the reactions if they found out that Jon Snow had defiled Sansa and none of them would be exactly good; whether Jon was madly in love with her or not. And he did. He absolutely loved Sansa and wanted to be with her.

 

He was a coward though. He knew that without a doubt. So scared of even thinking of losing the rest of the Starks as his friends, that fear trounced the love he had for her every time he even thought of gathering himself to tell the others.

 

That, alone, let him know that he was nowhere near worthy of being with Sansa. She should have been with a man who would do anything or face anything to be with her; not a man who gave her quick orgasms in the backseats of cars and hid his affections for her from her family. And maybe, deep down, he knew that not being worthy of her was the real reason why he wouldn’t tell the Starks.

 

“We’re always making love, Sansa,” Jon told her, his eyes staring into hers so she could see he meant it.

 

He couldn’t explain the relief he felt in his chest when Sansa gave him a soft smile.

 

“I know,” she said with a nod and he lowered his lips to hers for a countless kiss.

 

They then broke apart. Sansa put on _Rubber Soul_ and went to finish some sewing she had been working on earlier before he had come over and Jon had sat on the floor to listen to the record that was becoming very familiar to him. He had never had an opinion on the Beatles before Sansa. All of the Starks had grown up together so he had heard them coming from Sansa’s bedroom whenever he had been over to see Robb and the others. He had thought they were a fine band. They were the _Beatles_ , after all, but he had never had strong feelings in regards to them.

 

And then, he fell in love with Sansa and they began seeing and sleeping with each other in secret and suddenly, the Beatles quickly became the _only_ music he listened to. It was as if Sansa and the Beatles were very much a package deal.

 

Sitting on the floor with him now, she smiled as she reached a hand out and placed it over his eyes.

 

“Close these,” she instructed.

 

Jon found himself already smiling. “Alright.” He didn’t argue and closed his eyes.

 

He felt Sansa’s hand move away and then he heard her move towards the record player. Gently, she moved the needle from the vinyl and carefully placed it at the start of another song. “Nowhere Man” began to play.

 

“Now,” Sansa said. “Keep your eyes closed and listen. _Really_ listen.”

 

Again, Jon did what she wanted him to.

 

_“He’s a real nowhere man,_

_Sitting in his nowhere land,_

_Making all his nowhere plans for nobody._

_Doesn’t have a point of view._

_Knows not where he’s going to._

_Isn’t he a bit like you and me?_

_Nowhere man, please listen._

_You don’t know what you’re missing,_

_Nowhere man, the world is at your command.”_

“Do you feel anything?” Sansa asked after a moment.

 

Jon paused. “… am I supposed to?” He asked hesitantly.

 

She laughed softly. “ _Rubber Soul_ was the first Beatles album where you could really hear them beginning to get away from being “just” a pop-rock band. From the very first song, you know this album is going to be different. You hear the songs on this album, really hear them, and you can _feel_ your life changing because of it. Do you feel any of that?”

 

Jon listened to the song for another moment before slowly opening his eyes.

 

The first thing – the _only_ thing – he saw was Sansa, sitting on the carpet in front of him, the sun shining around her again, a faint smile on her face as she looked at him. And he felt as if someone had just put both of their hands on his chest and shoved him as hard as they possibly could.

 

He looked at her and he _knew_ what she meant. His entire life had changed.

 

Because of _her_.

 

…

 

He listens to _Rubber Soul_ album at least a couple of times a week. He doesn’t have the vinyl and he is aware that the Beatles sounds the best on vinyl, but he has the CD and he works with what he has.

 

When he’s working; when he’s walking Ghost; when he’s getting driven somewhere by either his mom or Arthur. He listens to it and he’s quiet, letting himself to really listen to the songs just as Sansa had told him to do years earlier in her bedroom one afternoon. He doesn’t listen to “Nowhere Man” though. He always skips over that one. “Girl”, too. Sansa loved nearly every single song the Beatles did, but there were a few precious ones that had been her absolute favorites. “Girl” had been one of those.

 

He is listening to _Rubber Soul_ now in his bedroom, it playing softly from his laptop speakers as he looks over the paperwork for the small business loan for the fiftieth time. He doesn’t want to drop it off at the bank until he deems it be perfect. Ghost is on his bed, flopped out on his side, snoring his afternoon away.

 

The rest of the house is quiet. Arthur is gone off to work, no one having an idea of when he’ll be back again, and Lyanna is out in the backyard. It’s a beautiful spring day, actually not that cold, and with the ground finally no longer frozen, Lyanna is getting a head start on pulling the weeds before she plants all of her flowers in the garden. Jon is going to go out and help her, but first, he wants to finish this up – finally – and get this next part of his life started.

 

He never thought he would ever own his own company; never even though it would be something he would be interested in having for himself, but he supposes getting into a terrible car accident with a tree, losing his kidney – and his driver’s license – starting to attend AA meetings can bring a few changes to one’s life.

 

 Just thinking of the scar on his lower back from where his kidney used to be, Jon can feel it tingling right now and he reaches a hand back to give it a rub. It sometimes does that – especially right before it rains. It aches, too, when he thinks of Sansa so he does his best to never think about her. That’s far easier to say though than to actually do. He’s _always_ thinking of Sansa. Even now, filling out a loan application, he’s thinking about her; imagining her sitting here with him, at his desk, helping him with all of the questions. He likes to think that if things had gone differently for them and Sansa _was_ here with him right now, she’d be so proud of him for going out on his own and starting his own construction business.

 

She’s not here though. She hasn’t been here for a year now; having graduated from college and moving off to Dreadfort to live with her boyfriend. She hasn’t been back since and Jon can just imagine how happy she is, away from here and living her life and being with some guy who probably doesn’t even know that he’s the luckiest guy in the world because each day, he gets to wake up next to Sansa Stark.  

 

Jon’s tried so many times to move on from her, but he can’t. No matter what he does, Sansa is always right in the front of his mind. She probably can’t even remember his name anymore and here he is, rubbing his scar and thinking about her being here with him right now. Years later, and that’s still the only thing he wants.

 

He’s wanted to ask the other Starks about her more times than he can keep track of, but he always manages to bite his tongue before he can. Hearing about Sansa won’t help him, he knows. Hearing about her will only push him back towards the black hole he’s been working so hard to climb himself out of and stay out of.

 

Ghost suddenly sits up and lets out a bark, startling Jon so much, he jumps in his chair. He then hears a quiet knock on the door that Ghost had obviously been expecting, having heard the person coming.

 

“Yeah!” Jon calls out, turning down the music.

 

The bedroom door opens and Robb pokes his head in.

 

Robb has been wanting him and Jon to get a flat together in downtown Wintertown somewhere; be roommates again just like they had been at university. But Jon knows that right now, the best place for him to be is with his parents, at home. It’s a goal to work towards though and right now, setting goals for himself – _realistic_ goals – is one of the best things Jon knows he can do.

 

“Hey,” Jon gives his best friend a smile and his eyes then go to the clock in the corner of the laptop screen. Robb’s been coming to his AA meetings with him every week and picks him up to drive him. “You’re really early,” he lets him know.

 

“Yeah…” Robb steps into the room now, Ghost thumping his tail at him.

 

“What is it?” Jon frowns, looking at Robb’s face and not being able to miss the redness in his eyes. Something’s wrong. Obviously. “Robb, what is it?” He asks again.

 

Robb slowly comes to sit on the corner of the bed and Jon turns his chair so he’s facing him.

 

Jon feels a fist in his stomach. He has no idea what it could be that would make his best friend cry. The last time he saw Robb anywhere near emotional was when Jon had been in the hospital, crying over his lost kidney. Right now, Robb looks just as devastated as he had then. Maybe even more so now and Jon is at an absolute loss of ideas as to what it could be that would make Robb like this again.

 

“Robb…” Jon says and then trails off, waiting for Robb to say something.

 

Robb rubs his hands on his jeans, over his thighs, and looking down to the floor, he gives a quick sniff. He lifts his head to look at Jon and even while obviously trying his hardest to keep from crying, tears are brimming in his eyes anyway, about to fall down his cheeks.

 

Now, Jon’s not just worried, but he’s feeling scared now, too.

 

But just as he opens his mouth to demand of Robb this time to tell what’s wrong, Robb speaks.

 

“It’s Sansa,” Robb blurts out and Jon feels everything – including his beating heart and pumping blood – still.

 

Just hearing her name… Why is Robb about to cry when saying his sister’s name? His heart begins beating again; pounding forcefully, trying to break right through his ribs.

 

“What’s happened to Sansa? What’s wrong? Robb-” Jon begins firing out.

 

“Jon,” Robb cuts him off. “Sansa’s home.”

 

…


	2. Two

…

 

**Two.**

“What is it?” He asked the instant he felt her body beneath his become tense.

 

“Nothing,” Sansa shook her head. She gave him a smile that even in the low lighting of the room, Jon immediately knew that it to be strained.

 

“Sansa, what’s wrong?” He asked her again.

 

Sansa paused for a moment as if about to shake her head again and insist that nothing was wrong, but then, she released a deep breath. “I don’t like that position,” she mumbled, her eyes unable to look into his as she gave her answer to him.

 

“Okay,” Jon said simply and it caused Sansa’s eyes to fly to his face; as if she couldn’t believe that he didn’t have more to say about it or if to make sure that he wasn’t making fun of her. Jon couldn’t help, but smile a little as he brushed a hand down her side. “If you don’t like that position, we won’t do it,” he then shrugged.

 

Sansa’s mouth opened, about to reply, but then her lips slowly closed again. She looked up at him for another minute and Jon made sure that he didn’t move his eyes away from hers; not even for a second in case she interpreted that – wrongly – of him not meaning it.

 

“Do you like it when we do it that way?” Sansa asked softly.

 

Jon took only a moment before answering. “I do,” he nodded honestly. Sansa opened her mouth to respond, but Jon already knew what she was going to say and he didn’t necessarily want to hear it. He leaned down and kissed her swiftly before she could speak. “But we’re not doing it if you don’t like it.”

 

Sansa looked at him and then lowered her eyes, swallowing. “I just… it feels too… raunchy,” she tells him. “Like I’m some porn actress, being degraded.”

 

“Hey,” Jon sank more on top of her so his body was flush against hers. “I never want you to feel like that, Sansa, and we won’t _ever_ do it like that again. I promise.”

 

Sansa nodded and looked to him once more. “Maybe… maybe if we call it something other than… _doggy-_ ” Jon smiled as Sansa’s nose wrinkled just from the word. “-we can maybe work our way into… doing that.”

 

Jon couldn’t help, but smile again; this time for a different reason. She probably didn’t even realize she had done it, but she was just talking about working towards something; something in _their_ future. It was small – _so_ small – but that didn’t matter to Jon because planning for something in the future was still a plan and she saw something with him – with _them_ – that made her plan.

 

She was beginning to ask him more often of when they were going to tell her family and friends about their relationship and Jon knew that soon, she would begin to get really impatient with him. And he didn’t and wouldn’t blame her. He knew this could only go on for so long. Sansa didn’t deserve something like this; she deserved a guy who held her hand wherever they went – in public, in front of everyone – and shout to anyone with ears that Sansa Stark was with him. That’s what Sansa deserved; someone who would worship her and not just while in the bedroom.

 

Jon wondered why Sansa didn’t tell anyone; why she was waiting for him to. Maybe it was because she was testing him – seeing what kind of man he was – and every time Jon kept quiet, he was failing her.

 

…

 

The Starks are one of the wealthiest families in all of the North and with Ned Stark’s position as Warden of the North, they are one of the most powerful. The property their house sits on is massive, gated and protected. The guard who sits in the box at the gate, at the beginning of the drive, knows Jon and doesn’t even have him stop before he’s opening the gate and waving him in.

 

_“Sansa?” Jon echoed the name. “Sansa’s home? How is she?”_

_Robb sniffed again and shook his head. “I can’t tell you. I don’t know everything yet.”_

And those words have been echoing in Jon’s mind since. He didn’t go to his AA meeting; he didn’t leave his room for the rest of the night even when his mom, and then Arthur, knocked on the door, asking him if everything was alright and if he wanted anything to eat and why wasn’t he going to his meeting?

 

He has told himself to stay away. He’s told himself that Sansa was home and was with her family and whatever had happened to her in the year she was away, it had nothing to do with him. It’s been five years since they’ve had anything to do with one another. The four years she was in university, meeting that Ramsay guy in her last year and then going off with him after graduating, whatever has happened to Sansa, Jon has absolutely no place in her life anymore.

 

But he’s here and he keeps hearing Robb’s words in his head. Sansa’s home and something has to be wrong with her if Robb is crying and can’t even tell Jon anything. It must be something bad though. Something bad that makes Jon scared for reasons he doesn’t even understand.

 

Arthur stops the car in the driveway and shifts into park. Jon doesn’t get out of the car though. He sits in the passenger seat and stares up at the massive house before him. It’s quiet. The Starks live in the country and it’s always a bit more quiet than it is in Wintertown, but still, today, it seems absolutely silent.

 

“You want me to wait?” Arthur asks.

 

Jon nods and doesn’t say anything, still looking up at the house. And then, he turns his head to look at his stepfather. “You know you can come in, too.”

 

“I know,” Arthur gives him a small smile that doesn’t reach the rest of his face. “I’m just going to stay in here though and listen to the highlights from the game last night. You take your time.”

 

Jon leaves the car a moment later, heading up to the front porch, climbing the steps. His finger reaches out to press the doorbell, but he stops when he sees the note taped above it.

 

_Please knock. Do not ring the doorbell. N.S._

Jon frowns when he reads that, but does as Ned’s note instructs.

 

He is able to count to thirty before he hears the tumble of locks from the other side and then the door opens. It’s Ned and Jon, as always, stands a little taller when he sees Mr. Stark.

 

“Jon,” the man says his name as if he is sighing it and the man’s eyes are red just as Robb’s had been.

 

“I…” Jon begins to say something, but what, he doesn’t know and he stops himself when he realizes that. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t belong here. “Robb told me…”

 

Again, he can’t finish.

 

Without a word, Ned steps back and opens the door wider; an invitation and Jon takes it. He steps into the house and just like outside, it’s quiet inside, too. Definitely not normal for the Stark home. The rooms, almost, in a way, feel tighter; like the air is heavier as it lays completely still and the walls are squeezing together, like someone wringing their hands together.

 

The dogs, Summer and Shaggydog, Bran and Rickon’s dogs, don’t come and greet him like they always do. He hears a television on very low volume coming from the den in the back of the house – sounding nothing more than the faintest murmur.

 

Ned puts a hand on Jon’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he closes the door behind them both.

 

“Come into my office,” Ned says and Jon nods silently.

 

He follows Ned down the hall to the man’s office and sees that Robb is already in there, the young man sitting in a chair in front of the fire, a glass of dark liquid – probably whiskey, knowing Robb, in his hand. He is staring into the flames and he lifts his head when he hears his dad come back. He stands up when he sees Jon and Jon notes that again, his best friend’s eyes are red just like his dad’s.

 

“I know I shouldn’t have come,” Jon is finally able to say as Ned closes the office door behind them now, too.

 

He has no business being here. Whatever he and Sansa shared together, whatever he and Sansa were, it’s been _years_. Whatever had been between them, it’s not there anymore.

 

“Sansa’s pregnant,” Robb said as bluntly as telling him that he wants a hamburger.

 

Jon stares at him, standing still in his spot, knowing that he _really_ shouldn’t be there.

 

Sansa’s… pregnant. She’s going to have a baby. With Ramsay. Does that mean that Ramsay’s here, too? Did they both come back to Wintertown to share the happy news with her family?

 

Sansa’s going to have a baby and it’s with a guy who’s not him. Not that he ever thought he and Sansa would have a baby; not the way things ended between them. But, when they were together, Jon sometimes thought about it. If he ever told her family and they were actually alright with their daughter being with him, Jon imagined them being together forever after that. He couldn’t ever imagine a reason for them to break up. He could so easily imagine himself marrying Sansa and having a family with her.

 

But he was a coward, she walked away, he didn’t stop her and five years later, here they are. Jon, alone, and Sansa pregnant with another guy’s baby.

 

He stands there and he can’t help it. His eyes go to the dry bar Ned has in the office. He’s always preferred beer, but right now, any of those liquors in the glass bottles will do. Jon stares at them and can feel his tongue growing larger in his mouth with thirst; his dry lips begging to be wet.

 

“Jon,” Ned steps in his eye line, placing himself between Jon and the bottles. Jon wonders if the man had been able to read his mind or if Ned hasn’t even realized what he’s done.

 

Either way, Jon is grateful. Not being able to see them, his hands stop shaking. He hadn’t even realized they had been shaking in the first place until now, when they stop.

 

“Come sit. There’s more,” Ned puts a hand on Jon’s back and guides him towards the fire.

 

Jon’s feet are heavy on the carpet though. “I should go,” he tells both Robb and Ned.

 

There’s no way he wants to hear anything else. Sansa’s pregnant and even if there had been the _slimmest_ chance that they could have ever been something again – whether tomorrow or twenty years from now – that’s gone now. She’s with someone else and she’s starting a family with someone else who’s not him.

 

“No,” Robb shakes his head. “There’s more.”

 

Jon sits down on the couch, looking to his best friend.  

 

He doesn’t remember it. He had been so drunk, everything a black hole in his mind, but he had managed to call Robb to come and get him. And Robb, being the best mate he could be, came to pick up his drunk ass up from the bar; something that was becoming so normal, Jon wondered if Robb spent every night now, just waiting for this phone call.

 

Instead of taking him to his mom’s house so Lyanna couldn’t see him like that, Robb had taken him back to the Stark house and sometime – either during the ride there or when Robb, and then Ned, were helping him inside, Jon began talking about Sansa and how much he loved her and missed her.

 

All of those years of keeping it a secret, his drunken mouth had let the words spill out without a second’s pause. And for so long, he had been building up and assuming what their reaction to the secret would be once they all found out. Their _lack_ of reaction had nearly killed him. He would have much preferred shouting and kicking him out than anything less than that because that would mean that he lost Sansa for nothing. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to get over that.  

 

When he was sober again, Jon told them about the year he and Sansa had been together, of being in love and of keeping it a secret from everyone. Jon told them how Sansa wanted him to tell them all, but he had always pushed it off, promising her that he would. Just not yet. And he told them of how finally, Sansa had had enough and left.

 

Jon told them that he still loved her; always would. Sansa Stark just wasn’t – isn’t – a woman guys get over.

 

The Starks _know_ all of this so why do Robb and Ned think that Jon wants to hear _anything_ about Sansa and some other guy having a baby together?

 

“Sansa’s upstairs right now with Catelyn and Arya,” Ned says, sitting himself down as well. “Catelyn and I were at the hospital all day yesterday with Sansa and she’s exhausted.”

 

At the hospital.

 

Because Sansa is pregnant.

 

It takes Jon a second to realize that he didn’t say that Ramsay was upstairs, too, with Sansa. Is he here? If Sansa was pregnant with _his_ baby, Jon already knows she wouldn’t be going to the hospital – or anywhere – without him.

 

Ned inhales and exhales a shaky breath then and Jon turns his head to look at the man. He doesn’t look happy. Neither does Robb. They’ve just found out their daughter and their sister is having a baby and their eyes are both red from crying – and obviously not from happiness.

 

Jon begins to frown. “Is something wrong with Sansa or the baby?” He asks as his heart sputters.

 

Robb is the one to shake his head. “No, the baby’s fine.”

 

Jon looks at him, waiting, and he then looks to Ned. “And Sansa?” His heart has stopped altogether now.

 

Robb and Ned look at one another for a moment before both look to Jon.

 

Ned is the one to speak. “No, she’s not fine.”

 

He doesn’t know what that means, but within seconds of hearing that, Jon feels his tongue growing in his mouth and he thinks of how badly he needs a drink.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much to the response for the first chapter. I'm not sure how long this story will be. I already know exactly how I want to end it - it's just getting there. In the next chapter, Jon will see Sansa for the first time and Ned and Catelyn are going to talk to the others of Sansa and Ramsay. Thank you again!


	3. Three

…

 

**Three.**

Catelyn brushes hair back from Sansa’s face as she sleeps. Finally. It had been a struggle to get her to do so, her daughter afraid to close her eyes for even a moment.

 

“He’ll find me,” Sansa had shaken her head frantically, tears clinging to her lashes.

 

Catelyn had felt her own tears flooding her eyes, but she did her best to keep from any falling. This wasn’t about her. This was about her daughter and how absolutely terrified she was. Catelyn would cry later, but for now, her one and only concern and priority was Sansa.

 

“He won’t, Sansa. I promise,” Catelyn had shaken her own head, her hands gently holding either side of Sansa’s head as Sansa gasped for breath. “You’re safe here. I promise you that you’re safe.”

 

Sansa had kept gasping and her body had been visibly shaking. “I’ll never be safe,” she whispered.

 

Catelyn closed her eyes to keep from crying as she brought Sansa into her arms and held her as Sansa broke down. Again. Her daughter had cried so many tears and Catelyn had no idea what to do other than hold her. Hold her in the car from the train station on the way home; hold her after taking pictures of her body; hold her in the hospital when first the doctor checked Sansa and then another doctor checked the baby; hold her back home, when Sansa is too afraid to go to sleep even though she’s exhausted.

 

Catelyn lost hold of her the year before and now, she is going to never do that again.

 

She knew that she would never be able to forgive herself for the past year and failing Sansa so greatly.

 

There had been several times when Catelyn had yelled at Ned and prepared to storm to Dreadfort herself to drag her daughter back home by her hair. Sansa had moved away with that boyfriend of hers, Ramsay Bolton, after they graduated – despite both Catelyn and Ned not exactly approving of the decision – and at first, Sansa and Catelyn spoke several times a week. Catelyn had been able to note the slightest change in her daughter’s tone in those early conversations, but when she asked, Sansa would assure her that she was fine; just trying to adjust to everything different in her life now.

 

And then, the phone calls became less and less; Catelyn’s own phone calls going unanswered.

 

Every time Catelyn was ready to go, Ned had been the one to talk her down. If they went up there and demanded to see Sansa and demanded she come home, that would only push her away further. They weren’t sure what they had done that would make their daughter not want to see or speak with them, but if they forced her to do either, they would accomplish nothing. With five children, Ned and Catelyn both had more than learned that lesson. They tell their children they can’t do something, of course that is the thing their children will fight the most to do.

 

So, Catelyn waited and prayed that Sansa would reach for her again. Ned had sent a man to Dreadfort to check on Sansa – just to see that she was alive – and he would return with pictures of Sansa working in a café. Catelyn would look at the pictures of her daughter through the front window as she waited on tables and she would try to think of what she had done that had pushed Sansa so far away because surely, Catelyn had to be the one to blame. She and Sansa had always been so exceptionally close – as close as a mother and daughter could be – and then, something happened and now, Sansa wanted nothing to do with her or the family.

 

And then, a year went by and Sansa called Ned, sobbing from the Wintertown train station – bruised and scarred and broken. And pregnant.

 

It has been a day and Sansa obviously hasn’t told them everything – or much of anything – but Catelyn and Ned don’t need her to; not right now. Ned has seen the pictures and Catelyn has seen Sansa’s body. That is more than enough at the moment to let them both know what their daughter has been through this past year; what _they_ have put her through because they thought that coming to get her would only push her away; having no idea that Sansa _needed_ her parents to come and save her.

 

No, Catelyn thinks to herself as she sits on Sansa’s bed, stroking her sleeping daughter’s hair. She’ll never be able to forgive herself.

 

With a soft sigh, Catelyn slowly stands up and then brings the blanket up to cover Sansa’s body. She doesn’t know how long Sansa will sleep for, but any amount will be a good amount. Besides the severe beatings her body has been put through that needs to recover from, she is now pregnant and both her and her baby will need as much sleep and rest they both can get.

 

Hearing a slight creak in the floor behind her, Catelyn spins around. It’s Jon, standing in the doorway right outside, still in the hallway. Catelyn puts a finger to her lips and Jon nods before he takes a step into the bedroom. She will allow him to look at Sansa for a moment.

 

She doesn’t know if Jon Snow should be here at all, if she’s being honest. Her son’s best friend since they were little ones first in school, and with his mother working all of the time, Ned and Catelyn brought Jon into the Stark family without thinking twice about it. He was a good boy – always trying so hard to always be so – and Catelyn has grown to love him as another of her children.

 

There are far more details than she’s been made privy to, but what she knows is this. Jon and Sansa were in a relationship for almost a year together, but kept it a secret from everyone. They loved one another deeply, but Sansa hadn’t been able to keep it a secret any longer, but Jon wasn’t willing to tell, thus, breaking Sansa’s heart. That’s more than enough detail, Catelyn supposes.

 

Catelyn tries to remember Sansa at this particular time. Her daughter had been quiet, sad, but when Catelyn had asked her, Sansa had just told her that was scared about college. Catelyn should have known better. So many things in Sansa’s life that Catelyn should have known better.

 

Having the boy here who broke her heart will be far too much for Sansa to handle right now and yet, Catelyn can’t bring herself to tell him to leave. She thinks of the decline she has seen Jon on these past few years, the drinking and the accident and now, the recovery.

 

Both Sansa and Jon are so fragile right now. Perhaps it will be best if neither are around the other for the time being. Or perhaps, for a very long time.

 

“I…” Jon begins to say, but then his voice trails off when his eyes land on Sansa’s sleeping form on the bed.

 

Catelyn looks to the boy, now man, and sees him visibly swallow as he looks to Sansa. There’s a look in his eyes that makes Catelyn’s chest ache when she sees it. Complete and utter pain.

 

He takes a step closer to the bed and Catelyn reaches a hand out to take his hand. He looks back to her and she shakes her head. Jon looks at her for another moment before nodding his head – reluctantly – and looking back to Sansa, swallowing again.

 

Catelyn gives him another moment before she gently pulls him from the bedroom.

 

“Her cheek…” Jon sounds like he’s struggling with speaking, the words choking in his throat, and Catelyn nods, closing the door behind them both.

 

She won’t tell Jon about the rest of her body. That will help no one.

 

“Ramsay did this to her?” Jon asks, his voice low.

 

“He did,” Catelyn nods, not knowing what her husband and Robb have already told him. “She’s home now though and she’s safe.”

 

She says that for herself as much as for Jon.

 

Jon looks to the closed bedroom door and Catelyn could be a blind person and still read this young man’s thoughts. There are things Catelyn wants to ask him – if Sansa is the reason for his excessive drinking; what he’s going to do now that she’s home again. She has questions, but she won’t think to ask them. Not now anyway. Now is far from the proper time to ask him things.

 

She likes Jon; _loves_ Jon like a son, but when it comes to this young man or her daughter, her daughter is going to win in Catelyn’s heart every single time and Catelyn remembers how sad Sansa had been once her relationship with Jon ended – whether anyone knew about the relationship at the time or not – and now she thinks of everything Sansa has endured with Ramsay. The last thing Sansa needs right now is Jon Snow around. No matter how many years it’s been, Sansa needs this time to focus on herself.

 

And Jon still loves Sansa - he has told Ned, herself and Robb all that - but now is not the time. 

 

“We need to let her rest,” Catelyn tells him gently, her hand now going to his arm.

 

Jon nods, but he keeps his eyes on the door, not moving. “This past year, with her gone, I’ve thought about what it would be like when she came home again.”

 

Catelyn is quiet, looking at him as he looks at the door.

 

“I thought there could be a way… maybe, we could…” he shakes his head as if he can’t get all of his thoughts straight, but Catelyn doesn’t need him to. She’s well aware of what he’s trying to say.

 

“Come on, Jon. Go downstairs and tell everyone I’ll be there in a moment. I’ll make us all something to eat,” she says though she can’t imagine any of them having much of an appetite right now.

 

Jon nods, his eyes still on the door, and Catelyn has to wonder if he truly hears her or not. But then, he finally turns and with his head away, Catelyn hears him give a deep sniff as he begins down the hallway to the stairs.

 

Catelyn takes her turn now to look at the door before she turns the opposite way and hurries down the hallway to hers and Ned’s bedroom at the end of it. She barely gets the door shut behind her before the dam breaks and the tears stream down her cheeks. She can’t even think of stopping them. There is no stopping them now that they’ve begun falling.

 

She manages to cross the room and collapse herself onto the bed and it seems as if, with her head on her pillow, she only begins crying harder.

 

Her Sansa – her sweet Sansa – who has spent her entire life, just trying to please those around her. This past year, she could have died. That man could have killed her and Catelyn would have had to live with that, always knowing that she had done absolutely nothing to try and help and save her daughter.

 

The more she thinks of how close she came to losing Sansa, the harder Catelyn cries; her chest heaving up and down, her lungs burning as it becomes harder to breathe.

 

The bed dips behind her and then Ned’s arms are around her and feeling her husband holding her, it only makes her cry harder, clinging to one of his arms and gasping for air. He murmurs words in her hair that she can’t hear or focus on.

 

But something Ned does say seems to break through and Catelyn hears it loud and clear.

 

“Robb and I have been talking in my office. We’re going to take care of it,” he promises.  

 

Even in the midst of her crying and her breakdown, Catelyn has been married to Ned Stark long enough now to know him as well as she knows herself. And right now, Catelyn knows exactly what her husband means when he makes that promise to her.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me longer than usual just because getting into Catelyn's mind became extremely difficult for me - hence, why it's a little shorter than usual. I can't even imagine how a mother would feel, seeing their daughter like this. Thank you very much to those reading and liking this one so far!


	4. Four

…

 

**Four.**

The knock is quiet, but even over the music softly playing in the room, Jon can still hear it. He doesn’t actually tell the person that they can come in, but the door opens a crack and his mom sticks her head in.

 

“Jon? Your meeting is in a half-hour and I’m going to be the one driving you tonight,” Lyanna tells him.

 

Jon is lying on his bed, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. “I’m not going to my meeting tonight.”

 

Lyanna opens the door completely and steps into the bedroom. “You absolutely _are_ going to your meeting tonight and we’re not even having a discussion about it, Jon.”

 

Jon doesn’t say anything; just keeps looking up to the ceiling.

 

Lyanna looks at him and she sighs heavily. She goes to his laptop and stops the music before spinning towards the bed. “You are going to listen to me right now, Jon Snow. You have put me through too much shit over these past couple of years and you owe me that.”

 

Jon doesn’t say anything to that and he doesn’t pull himself into a sitting position, but Lyanna doesn’t doubt that he’s listening. Even with everything that has happened, she still likes to think that she knows her son.

 

“Your drinking, your accident, losing your kidney and almost _dying_ , I have seen you go through it all and _I_ have gone through it with you so if you think, for one second, that I’m going to let you stay up here in your room, with the lights off, listening to the Beatles, and miss even one of your meetings, you must have lost your damn mind, too.”

 

Jon remains silent.

 

Lyanna sighs heavily and rubs her forehead as if she is trying to stave off an oncoming migraine. She then goes to sit on the edge of the bed and when she does, after a moment, Jon pulls himself into a sitting position and swinging his legs over, he sits up next to Lyanna.

 

“Jon, you can’t give in or give up. I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you, but you _just_ got your one-month chip. You can’t slip back no matter how badly you feel like you want to. _I_ can’t let you slip back.”

 

Jon turns his head to look at her and she gives him the smallest of smiles she’s able to muster and she lifts her hand, resting it on the side of his head.

 

“My sweet boy,” she whispers with tears glassed over in her eyes.

 

“Please don’t,” Jon finally speaks, pleading with her, because he knows what she’s about to do. She has done so much of it over these past few months and it’s always the last thing Jon wants from her.

 

She blames herself. For every single mistake Jon has made in these past few years; for every time he lifted a beer to his lips to drink until he blacked out, Lyanna blames herself and Jon knows this and knows that she has gone over every single decision she has made as his mother because surely, it was something _she_ had done – or hadn’t done – that would drive her only child down the path of alcoholism.

 

She spent too much time away. She had worked two jobs for most of Jon’s life to try and give him a good home and anything he could want – within reason. The Starks had been such a massive help in caring for Jon, Lyanna still feels as if she can never thank them enough. When Jon had been in the hospital after his accident, Ned, Catelyn and Robb Stark had all be there, in Jon’s room, right along with Lyanna and Arthur.

 

“Mom…” Jon says, but then sighs heavily, dropping his head forward. “Sansa’s home.”

 

Lyanna almost says “Ah” to that, but she is able to keep it to herself. She doesn’t know much about her son’s relationship with the oldest Stark daughter – and when she says she doesn’t know much, she means that she doesn’t know _anything_. All she does know is that Jon and Sansa dated and then broke up – finding out about in the hospital with Jon telling her – and her son hadn’t been the same since. Lyanna doesn’t know anything, but she supposes she knows enough.

 

She doesn’t know Sansa Stark well. Even though she is part of the family that had a hand in helping raise her son, Lyanna has never really had an opportunity to be in a situation where she would be able to get to know Sansa. She knows the girl to be beautiful and from the few things she has heard from her own son, in passing, it’s obvious that Sansa is the apple of her parents’ eyes.

 

“Jon, I know how much she means to you,” Lyanna says as she rests a gentle hand on Jon’s back. “So, this is what we’re going to do. We’re going to go the AA meeting tonight and we’re going to keep going to them and you’re going to keep working on your sobriety for _you_. And if you and Sansa _ever_ get back together, you’ll not doubt that you’re a good enough man to be with her.”

 

Jon turns his head to look at her and doesn’t say anything to that. Lyanna gives him that small smile again and rubs her hand on his back.

 

After a moment, Jon sits up straight. “You’re right.”

 

Lyanna nearly says “I am?”, but again, she is able to keep that to herself, instead saying, “I am,” she smiles.

 

Jon smiles then, too – which Lyanna considers to be a small miracle.

 

But then, Jon’s smile drops as quickly as it had appeared and he takes a deep breath, reaching over and grabbing his shoes, tugging and lacing them on. “Sansa… she deserves someone who has their life together. Someone who can take care of her and protect her and a falling down drunk-ass loser is the last thing she needs.”

 

There’s something about Jon what is saying. Lyanna can’t put her finger on it, but there seems to be much more to what Jon is saying without him actually saying it.

 

“And the only way I can be that guy is if I go and get my next chip and the one after that.” He stands up and grabs his jacket. “Let’s go, mom.”

 

“Wait,” Lyanna stops him in his tracks as she stands up. “Jon, it’s good you have a reason to work on your sobriety, and trust me, I am so happy and obviously wouldn’t _not_ let you work on it, but I don’t know if Sansa being the _only_ reason to stay sober is a good idea.” Not that Lyanna knows what she’s talking about – she’ll speak with Jon’s sponsor, Osha, about it – but it sounds right.

 

“I know, mom,” Jon nods. “But right now,” he trails off and after a moment, he takes a deep breath. “I need to do it for me, I know, but Sansa… right now, she’s the reason I just put my shoes on.”

 

Lyanna looks at her son for a moment. “Let me go get my keys.”

 

Right now, she knows that Jon having any reason to put his shoes on and go to these meetings is going to have to be good enough. Maybe in a few more months, and once he has earned himself a few more chips, Jon will start to put on his shoes and go to these meetings for himself, too.

 

…

 

Perfect Friday night, Rickon Stark thinks to himself as he gets himself comfortable in the beanbag chair in his room, the video game firing up on his television.

 

He got home from school and went right to the kitchen table to do his homework. Rickon hates school – he can think of at least five things throughout the day he would much rather be doing – but when it comes to homework, he never messes around. The sooner he can get it done, the less he has to worry about it, in his opinion. Most of his friends wait until Sunday night to do theirs and by then, they’re scrambling and panicking and Rickon’s able to lie on the couch and play video games.

 

His dad says he plays too many of them, but Ned knows he doesn’t have _that_ much room to complain. Rickon gets good grades, does all of his homework – obviously – and at twelve, he’s already a track and cross-country star in his grade. If Rickon wants to play an exorbitant amount of video games in his spare time, Ned supposes that he has earned that with little lecturing from him. As long as they’re not too violent.

 

After finishing his homework and having his mom check it, she then drove him to one of his friends’ houses, who was having a video game party – which is exactly what it sounds like. A lot of video games and a lot of pizza. And now, hours later and home again, Rickon is changed for bed and ready to finish at least one more level before he crashes for the night. Friday, he’s allowed to stay up until eleven and he still has an hour.

 

He pops a chip into his mouth and sits up a bit in the beanbag chair, ready to un-pause and get started. But before he can, a scream shatters the air and it makes him jump. Shaggydog, lying on the floor next to him, gets on all fours and tilts his head towards the open bedroom door. Rickon keeps the game paused and he stands up, too.

 

It’s Sansa. She’s been home for a month now and she screaming at night happens at least once a night. Despite the regularity of it, Rickon can’t get used to it. He doesn’t think that he’s supposed to get used to it.

 

Mom and dad take turns to see to and comfort her and tonight, Rickon can hear that it’s his father, talking softly and gently to Sansa, breaking through whatever nightmare she had had tonight and Rickon can hear Sansa softly crying.

 

Rickon turns to his bed and grabs his pillow and top comforter. He turns off the television, grabs his bag of chips and then turns off the light before leaving his bedroom and heading into the bedroom next to his, Shaggydog following after him.

 

The small lamp on Sansa’s bedside table is on, the light warm. Sansa no longer sleeps without it being on.

 

Sansa is lying down again and the tears have seemed to stop and Ned stands up, leaning over to kiss her on the head and murmur to her that he loves her.

 

He turns and pauses for a moment when he sees Rickon, with Shaggydog, armed with his pillow and comforter. Ned doesn’t say anything; just begins to leave the room, but Rickon thinks his dad might be looking at him with something of pride in his eyes; like when he shattered the school’s track record for fastest 400-meter run and he was only in seventh grade. Rickon thinks the look in Ned’s eyes is the same now as it had been then, but Rickon can’t be sure. The lamp doesn’t give off the brightest amount of light.

 

“Come get me if you two need anything,” Ned says with a hand on Rickon’s shoulder and Rickon nods.

 

Once dad leaves the bedroom, Rickon looks to Shaggydog and then points to the bed. Shaggydog leaps onto it and lays himself next to Sansa. Rickon then comes around the bed to Sansa’s side and drops his pillow down onto the carpet. Sansa is curled on her side, her face still wet and red from crying and her eyes open.

 

“You don’t have to stay,” Sansa whispers to him.

 

Rickon doesn’t answer as he snaps out the comforter, making sure it’s spread out and he then sits down, making sure his legs and feet – especially his feet – are covered. He can’t sleep if his bare feet are exposed. He doesn’t care how old he is. Some demon can reach out and grab him too easily if his feet are out.

 

“Want a chip?” Rickon asks and holds the open bag towards her.

 

He’s not surprised when Sansa shakes her head, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not disappointed for some reason when she does.

 

Ever since Sansa came home after being gone for a year, it’s obvious to everyone that Sansa isn’t the same. Painfully obvious. It upsets Rickon far more than he wants to admit; and his parents, mostly his mom, have tried to ask and talk with him about it. Rickon’s not ready to talk yet. Mainly because he doesn’t know how to say it. He’s always loved Sansa. He loves all of his siblings like mad. The Starks have always been an exceptionally close family, but Sansa… having five children is hard and a parents’ time must be split five ways and Ned and Catelyn have done a kick-ass job of that, in Rickon’s opinion, but sometimes, Catelyn’s attention was on one of the others and Sansa would be the one to see to Rickon if he had needed seeing to.

 

Rickon loves Sansa like a sister _and_ a mother and to see her like this… it upsets him and it scares him, too.

 

“Want me to tell you about my video game party?” Rickon asks after he helps himself to one more chip and then folding up the bag, he sets it aside and lays down, getting himself settled.

 

Sansa smiles faintly; distantly. “The last video game I played was with you and it was Kirby.”

 

“We can talk about Kirby,” Rickon nods and something amazing happens.

 

Sansa laughs. It’s soft – so soft – and almost breathless, but Rickon knows what a laugh is when he hears it.

 

“Actually, you can talk to mom and dad for me. They just released a new Kirby game and I could definitely use it in my collection.”

 

Sansa smiles down at him and when Rickon sees it, he smiles up at her.

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promises.

 

“Thanks, Sansa.”

 

She looks at him for a moment longer and then she closes her eyes, but not before Rickon sees that she’s about to start crying again.

 

He’s surprised he’s able to fall asleep – not just with the lamp shining above onto his face, but because of Sansa and knowing that she is trying so hard to not cry in front of him – but somehow, he does fall asleep and when he wakes up, he instantly looks up, but Sansa is no longer on her side, facing him.

 

Rickon gets to his feet, silently, desperately needing the bathroom and he looks to see that Sansa has rolled to Shaggydog and she is sleeping deeply, her arms wrapped around the dog and the dog letting himself be held. Rickon looks at his dog and his sister for a moment before his bladder makes sure Rickon doesn’t forget about it and Rickon tiptoes – quickly – out of the bedroom to the bathroom across the hallway.

 

That’s actually not a bad idea for Sansa. He should talk to mom and dad in the morning about maybe looking into getting Sansa a dog of her own.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Sansa and Rickon's relationship in _Baby, It's You_ and I was very excited to write his POV in this chapter. Thank you very much for reading (and for being patient)! And there will be more Jon and Sansa flashbacks so we can get _some_ actual Jon/Sansa in this story.


	5. Five

…

 

**Five.**

Two weeks since she’s come home and the note is still over the Stark’s doorbell.

 

_Please knock. Do not ring the doorbell. N.S._

Jon knows it’s because the family learned – quickly – that when the doorbell does ring, Sansa lets out a scream and cowers in her bed, thinking that it is Ramsay and he has finally found her. Jon is being kept in the dark; he knows he is and he knows that it’s probably for his own well-being, at least in the others’ opinions. Robb and Ned told him the barest of things and he had seen the bruises on Sansa’s neck and face for himself when she had been sleeping. He supposes that he doesn’t _need_ to be told everything. He’s not stupid and it’s obvious that Ramsay has beaten her.

 

Jon admits that he doesn’t even know what to think of that. Obviously, pure anger and homicidal are the top thoughts and feelings on his mind when he imagines _anyone_ putting their hands on Sansa in a violent way.

 

And it’s his fault. It’s all his fault and there’s no doubt in his mind. Someone could say that Sansa chose to be with Ramsay, but why did she have that choice? Because Jon was the one who took away Sansa’s choice of being with him instead of Ramsay. Sansa had loved him. He knows that. She had told him enough times.

 

And yet…

 

He knows his mom loves him. Of course, Lyanna loves him. For as much as she has done for him and sacrificed, Jon never doubts his mom’s love for him. And yet, a mom’s love and having the love of a woman is obviously completely different and the way in which Sansa had loved him… it had completely encompassed him. He had never had someone love him the way Sansa had loved him. It had almost been suffocating in ways; to see how happy she was with him; to hear her making plans and her plans always included him.

 

He is an asshole. He also doesn’t doubt that. He had the most amazing girl in the world and not only did he have her and he had loved her, but she had loved him in a way that most people will never experience for themselves. Jon had that love and he tossed it away from him as if it hadn’t meant anything because her love for him scared him and he had thought it was fleeting.

 

Deep down, he knew that he didn’t deserve to feel that kind of love; especially that love from Sansa Stark.

 

And also, deep down, he had thought that Sansa would wise up and take herself and her love away from him eventually and find someone far worthier of her and her heart. Jon was a coward who had wanted to save himself; a coward who was afraid of having someone love him.

 

Because why him? What was so fantastic about him that someone like Sansa would love him as much as she did? He was no one. And he wasn’t even thinking these thoughts for pity. He truly thought that he was no one and Sansa would realize that, too. Eventually.

 

So, they ended and now, five years later, Sansa is home again with bruises on her pale skin and Jon wants to cut off his own hands because it’s his own fault for all of it.

 

Jon lifts his fist and knocks on the door, taking a deep breath as he does.

 

He shouldn’t be here. He knows that. He doesn’t belong here and yet, Ned Stark, himself, couldn’t get him to leave. He has no right to be anywhere in Sansa’s life, breathing the same air as her, and yet, that’s all he wants to do and this is the only place he wants to be.

 

He waits a minute and then another one before lifting his fist and knocking again; this time, a little louder. The Stark home is large and hearing a knock is far harder than hearing a bell echoing in each room.

 

This time, he only waits a few seconds before he can hear the turning of locks and then Bran opens the door.

 

“Hi, Bran,” Jon does his best to give him a small smile though smiles are hard to come by for anyone anymore. “Thank you,” he then says as Bran opens the door wider, silently inviting him to come inside.

 

“Everyone’s in the back,” Bran tells him as Jon follows him through the house. “Mom and dad have gotten Sansa a dog and we’re all in the backyard.”

 

“A dog?” Jon repeats as if he doesn’t understand what Bran is saying.

 

Bran gives a nod. “Dad made some calls. He got her one of those emotional support therapy dogs.” He pauses and Jon can see him swallow. “Mom and dad think the dog might help Sansa,” he says quieter.

 

Jon looks to him. “And you don’t think it will help?”

 

Bran is quiet as he thinks the question over – and Jon wonders if Bran has been waiting for someone to ask him that question – and Jon waits for him to answer. No matter his age and being younger than him, Bran is definitely one of the smartest people Jon knows. He’s always been smart – frightfully so. But more than that, he’s also highly observant. He’s an annoying one to watch a mystery movie with.

 

“I don’t know what will help Sansa,” Bran then answers, quietly and with a shake of his head.

 

But when Jon and Bran step out through the sliding back door onto the back deck, Jon hears something that makes his heart seize in his chest from the loveliness of it. Sansa is laughing.

 

In the middle of the massive Stark backyard is Sansa kneeling down with a beautiful Alaskan Malamute with her, wagging her tail and the front of her body crouched down with her butt in the air, her nose nudging Sansa’s face and making her laugh more.

 

Ned and Catelyn are standing off to the side with a woman – Jon assumes it’s the dog’s trainer – and they are watch with a smile while also speaking with one another. Arya, Robb and Rickon are with Sansa, too, Summer and Shaggydog sniffing at the new dog curiously. But the therapy dog seems to only be focused on Sansa, Sansa scratching her hands behind the dog’s ears and the dog pushing her head affectionately to Sansa’s chest, the smile never leaving her face.

 

Bran steps down to go back to his siblings and dogs, but Jon stops for a moment, just watching Sansa.

 

…

 

“Would you want to get a dog someday?” Sansa asked, tilting her head up from where she rested it on his chest so she could look to his face as she asked.

 

“Yes,” Jon didn’t hesitate in giving her his answer. “I’ve wanted one since I was a little kid, but my mom worked too much and dogs were so much money and we just weren’t able to get one. I’ve always told myself that when the perfect time comes, I’m _finally_ getting a dog.” He then gave her a smile. “Why do I think I was over at your house all of the time when we were younger? All of the dogs.”

 

Sansa laughed at that and Jon kissed her on the forehead.

 

Robb had been getting ready earlier to go out on a date with a girl from his economics class that he had gone out with a few other times.

 

“And if all goes well tonight, I won’t be seeing you until sometime _late_ tomorrow morning,” he had grinned.

 

Jon had waited for a half hour after Robb left before calling Sansa and she had arrived at the flat with an overnight bag over her shoulder and a smile on her face. The door had barely closed behind her before Jon was kissing her, wrapping her up in his arms.

 

And now, hours after that, they laid in his bed (behind a securely locked door), naked beneath the covers and eating pizza from a frozen one Jon had prepared for them, watching an episode of _Project Runway_. It was one of the earliest episodes – from season three – when the designers had to match their models’ outfits with outfits they had made for dogs.

 

“And would you like a dog as well?” Jon asked her though he couldn’t imagine any Stark _not_ having a dog.

 

“Yes,” Sansa nodded.

 

“And would you design outfits for it as well?” He had grinned and Sansa had laughed.

 

“If people dress their dogs, that’s their prerogative, but that’s definitely not mine,” she replied.

 

“You’re perfect for me, Sansa Snow,” he said, his lips to her hairline, and after a moment, he realized what he had said, feeling Sansa’s body go still against his. Slowly, he pulled his lips back and he looked to her face to see what her reaction to that slip had been.

 

She didn’t look angry though – not that that was the reaction he was expecting her to have – and she didn’t look confused or frightened either. If anything… she looked happy. There was no smile across her lips, but her eyes… her eyes, as she looked at him, were dancing.

 

“I didn’t mean…” he began to say, but found his words fading off; he realizing he had no idea what to say because deep down, no matter how hard he would try to deny it, he _did_ imagine Sansa Stark as Sansa Snow.

 

He imagined that far more times than he had any right to.

 

But looking into Sansa’s dancing eyes, he knew – he knew before this moment, too, but now, he _really_ knew – that it was something she definitely thought of, too.

 

For a moment, Jon allowed himself to really dwell on it; if he and Sansa were married and she _was_ Sansa Snow. He knew he shouldn’t entertain these thoughts, but right now, tucked in his bed with Sansa, her naked body resting against his, it was all he could think of; what it would like if he could have that with her for the rest of his life.

 

“What kind of dog would you like?” He asked her.

 

Now, a smile slowly spread across her lips like pouring honey. “A big one,” she answered.

 

Jon smiled then – a big one that crinkled the corners of his eyes – and Sansa’s smile grew in response. His lips returned to her hairline, resting them there, and his arms tightened around her as Sansa snuggled against him, a hum of contentment rising from her throat.

 

“Absolutely perfect,” he murmured.

 

…

 

The memory fades with another laugh from Sansa and Jon finally steps down from the back deck.

 

Robb turns his head, seeing Jon there, and with a final pat to the new dog, he gets to his feet and meets Jon halfway. Jon can’t take his eyes from Sansa. She’s actually smiling and laughing. The bruises are faded from her face, but it’s been so long since Jon has seen her. Every time he has come over, Sansa has been upstairs and Jon hasn’t seen her since that day in her bedroom, when she had been sleeping, right after she came home, and Catelyn had – rightfully – guided Jon from the bedroom once again.

 

Seeing her smiling and laughing now with this new dog, it makes Jon’s heart squeeze because it seems as if old bits of Sansa are peaking through.

 

“Hey, man,” Robb greets him and together, they stop and watch the other Starks with the three dogs. “Mom and dad think something like this could help. Rickon actually gave them the idea.”

 

Jon nods and doesn’t say anything. He can’t take his eyes off of her.

 

He has a selfish second where he wonders if Sansa knows he’s back there now, too, and she’s just ignoring him or if he’s so removed from her world, she doesn’t even sense him anymore.

 

It’s a dick thing to wonder, he knows. Sansa has been through so much – Jon can’t even begin to imagine everything she’s been through – and the last thing that _should_ be on her mind, and rightfully so, is Jon Snow.

 

“Did Arthur or your mom drop you off?” Robb asks.

 

Again, Jon nods. He can’t wait to get his license reissued to him. He has a couple more months of his probation to go through; of getting driven everywhere like he’s a little boy again. Even little boys, though, know better than to drive drunk and all actions have consequences.

 

Sansa’s laughter echoes through the air as the dog becomes enthusiastic with her affections and knocks Sansa back onto her hands, the dog licking her face and neck with a wagging tail that could probably knock over another person with ease.

 

Jon looks at Sansa’s bright face as she wraps her arms around the dog’s neck, hugging the animal as if prepared to never let them go again.

 

He then suddenly looks to Robb. “What is going to happen to Ramsay?” He asks, nearly demanding.

 

Robb’s eyes widen a bit as he looks to Jon and then lets out a cough. “What do you mean?” Robb is trying to act innocent and clueless, but Robb has always been a shit liar.

 

“I know you, Robb. I know your family. You’re going to do _something_ about Ramsay so what is it?”

 

Robb looks at him for a moment before he looks to Sansa for a moment. Something passes over Robb’s face then that Jon tries to read. Perhaps guilt. Perhaps something else. Robb then looks back to Jon.

 

“Whatever it is, you’re not a part of it,” he then informs him.

 

“The hell I’m not,” Jon nearly snaps. “Whatever you’re going to do, I want to be a part of it.” He pauses and swallows thickly, before licking his lips. He glances to Sansa, his heart squeezing, once again in his chest and this time, the fist around it remains, squeezing tighter second by second. “I _need_ to be a part of it.”

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm going to be working on the next chapter of _The Strings That Tie to You_ and I've also had very random ideas of one-shots for _All My Days_ and _Castle Black Bar_. 
> 
> As for last night's episode, I lost count of how many times I wanted to punch both Jon and Dany in the faces, to be honest. And I really, really hope that the Political Jon theories are true because if not... my Queen Sansa deserves so much better.


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